Winging It

“Do you like my new shirt, Daddy?” Miss7 asked me, looking chuffed.

“Nice,” I said, not having any idea why my attention was being drawn to it or why I was supposed to like it. It was a bit of clothing. This wasn’t the sort of thing I’m usually asked to comment on around here.

Having told her it was nice – which of course I did because I’m a good dad – I decided to check it out.

It was clean, which since we started the Big Lap is something we haven’t always been able to provide, but I suspected it was the big butterfly on the front which she was actually showing me.

Butterflies….something about butterflies seemed to ring a bell, albeit initially in the distant steeple of a village a valley or two over from the bit of brain I was currently occupying.

A few minutes later I remembered I was Googling replacement seat covers for the bus a couple of days ago when Miss7 glanced over my shoulder and begged me to buy ones with butterflies on them.

Figuring, incorrectly, the mystery of the bell-ringer was solved, I went back to not thinking about kids clothes – an exercise I’m so well qualified to undertake I could teach a TAFE course on it.

Anyway, it seemed the odd image of a butterfly – or flutterby as Master25 used to call them when he was a kid – was likely going to be featuring around here on books, shirts and body art for the next little while.

Which is fine. In fact, it could be worse: I could have a Belieber in the house.

Actually, if I’m honest, I’m a little thrilled about the potential change of decor around here. Due to Miss5’s infatuation with Mia & Me, the last six months there’s been a glut on horses in our home. Specifically, the mythological ones. And while I’ve tried to explain to Miss5 the difference between a pegasus and a unicorn, and how despite sharing an obvious genetic ancestor I’m not convinced their species are reproductively compatible, she’s not buying into it. It’s preferably flying unicorns all the way.

I even have a shirt.

So I was thinking butterflies might be a nice change of pace. They’re pretty and colourful and inoffensive.

Of course, there was this one thing which I hadn’t taken into account.

“AhhhhHHH!” screamed Miss9 a few short minutes later. “Why did you buy her that shirt? Don’t you know I’m scared of butterflies!”

Ah, yes, well that would be the thing about butterflies I was trying to remember.

And with that Miss9 ran ranting from the bus.

“I knew,” grinned Miss7 happily.

Explaining the mystery of why she suddenly loves flutterbyes so much. Girls are fun, aren’t they?

Miss5 and I in our matching shirts. I figure if Dwayne Johnson can wear a purple unicorn shirt, so can I.
This is the sort of pose you naturally adopt when you’re the daughter of a photographer. Apparently. No encouragement or direction needed. For anyone in the Gympie region who would like Tracey to take family photos, we’re here for another nine days. Tracey’s rate is $400 for a half hour session, for which you’ll receive a minimum of 40 fun and beautifully edited digital images (each in colour and b&w) on a bespoke wooden usb. (For larger groups please email for a quote).
“Just park here on the grass,” Mum said to me. Yes, I’m blaming her. 
Because she’s crafty as a microbrewer and I suspect she just wanted someone else to top soil the front yard.
We’re back for two weeks for some reason these two wanted – WANTED – to got to a high school. I mean they were squealing when I said yes. One week in they’ve only had three or four sick days between them, so they’re learning much more than if they were here at home with me teaching them.
Tracey had no idea she wasn’t alone until I showed her this photo. The kids were supposed to be asleep.
Hosted the third Boarding School event tonight with Goof Review.
Sent the following message to my MIL this morning: ‘Found a leak under bus. Hot water. I’m going to try fix it. Please warn Ken.’ Then I waited. And waited. It’s not fixed yet. I really thought he’d be here within ten minutes however my phone says she hasn’t seen it yet. Dammit. FYI I did end up trying to fix it, so now Ken has to fix my attempt as well as the original problem. I hope we’ve both learned something from this.

Raising a family on little more than laughs

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